


Thy Kingdom Come

by BDWC



Series: Bless Me Father, For I Have Sinned [3]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Blasphemy for fun and profit, M/M, Sweden is beautiful this time of year, The Clergy is expecting you, Welcome Home, no wait it's this one I'm going to Hell for, seduction goes both ways, seriously the nun who taught my creative writing class is screaming at me from the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-01-23 18:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18555355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BDWC/pseuds/BDWC
Summary: Father Copia arrives in Sweden, searching for answers and a new place to call home. The Clergy welcomes the fallen priest into their ranks and Papa Emeritus III welcomes him into his bed. Despite everything, Father Copia is still plagued by a feeling of unease. The Clergy is full of secrets and uncovering them might have a price Copia is unable to pay.A smutty, sexy, utterly blasphemous continuation of "Bless Me Father, For I Have Sinned".





	Thy Kingdom Come

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for loving my writing and this story so much. I still can not believe the response these works have had. You are all amazing, ever single one of you, and I appreciate you all so much. 
> 
> I honestly can not thank you enough. I'm not sure how much longer Father Copia's adventures will be but I know there's at least one or two left in me after this. 
> 
> I truly hope you enjoy this installment.

Papa Emeritus III narrowed his eyes, teeth worrying at his lower lip, mulling over a difficult and terrible decision. This could make or break everything. The responsibility was heavy on his shoulders and he sighed dramatically. The figures across from him, resplendent in pointed chrome masks and black clothes, waited patiently. Papa III watched them, unwilling to take any chances. 

"I don't want to have to do this but you leave me no choice," he said, sitting up straighter in his chair. The ghouls eyed him, unmoved. Papa selected a card from the collection in his hand and slammed it onto the table. The ghouls groaned in unison. 

"Oh come on," one said. 

"Draw four, motherfuckers." Papa said triumphantly, grinning like a cat that had just eaten a particularly tasty canary. 

"You fucking cheat, Emeritus," one of the ghouls said as the other grabbed four more Uno cards. "One day you're going to pay for your crimes." Papa III threw his head back and laughed. 

"I'd like to see you try," he said, still immensely proud of himself. The ghoul rolled his eyes. 

"So where is that new priest you said was coming?" the other ghoul asked, putting his cards in a semblance of order that only made sense to himself. Papa III shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. 

"He'll be here soon. Just you wait. He'll be flying in." 

"Should we send a car to the airport?" 

"No," Papa III said with a smile, "he knows the way home." 

***

The image Copia had of a peaceful plane journey to Sweden was ruined as soon as he set foot in the airport. Lines snaked around the huge building, hordes of people trying to rebook flights that had been cancelled due to a series of dangerous storms passing through. Father Copia got in one line and waited for what seemed like an eternity just to be told by a frazzled but cheerful airport employee that he was in the wrong line. Several more hours passed before Copia was finally sitting at the gate to his flight to Sweden. He was starving after his ordeal and ventured away to grab a quick bite. When he returned to his gate he was informed that there had been a change and his new gate was clear across the airport. Copia ran like a man chased by hellhounds, wheezing and panting when he came to a stop. He made it on his flight by the skin of his teeth and was dismayed to discover the sandwich he bought had been ruined by his soda leaking inside the plastic bag. Copia sighed and begged a flight attendant for some snacks. She informed him that they only took credit cards when he pulled out some crumpled euros. With a sigh, Copia resigned himself to his fate and settled back in his chair. Maybe he'd be able to get some sleep and grab something when he arrived. Two crying babies on the plane stole that dream from him and he spent the flight feeling like his nerves were fraying ropes slowly being ripped apart. Even the buses hadn't been this miserable. 

The plane landed in Sweden early that morning and Copia stepped out feeling like he had been zombified. His head pounded and his stomach growled at him like an angry lion. None of the restaurants in the airport had opened for the day yet and Copia could only sigh at his misfortune. He felt almost numb to it now. He began to feel like he was being punished. Maybe his old God was angry at losing a faithful worshiper. Maybe Satan was testing him. 

He stumbled out of the airport and raised his arm to flag down a taxi. The sun was just starting to come up and the sky was glorious. Everything had become a hopeful shade of indigo and the harsh florescent lights above seemed softer in the soothing retreat of the darkness. He looked up at the remaining stars above, nearly faded but still barely visible, and wondered for the one thousandth time what he was doing. He had made it to Sweden but to do so he had abandoned his entire life and his God. He had done it almost thoughtlessly, casting off his religion like someone might shed their clothes at the end of the day. He still wore his old priest vestments and had begun to slowly grow to resent them. They felt grimy from the days of travel and he wanted nothing more than to tear them off his body. Or, rather, to have someone tear them off for him. 

Papa Emeritus III haunted his thoughts. Copia could not exorcise his presence no matter how hard he tried. It was all he could do not to focus on what Papa had already done to him. His body still ached from what he called "the dream". The fallen priest had no idea how Papa was able to visit him like that. He still wasn't entirely sure it had been real. Sometimes he convinced himself it was just a trick of his exhausted brain but then he would shift in his seat and vividly remember why he was so sore. He needed answers. He needed to know what was going on. He needed Papa. 

A taxi pulled up and Copia slid into the back seat with a sigh of relief. He held his suitcase on his lap, holding onto it like it was the only real thing left in his life. His headache was getting worse and his mouth felt repulsively dry. The driver turned back to look at him. 

"Hello Father," he said in English. "Where can I take you today?"

Copia paused like a deer caught in headlights. His stomach dropped like a stone as he realized he didn't know where the abbey was. His brain began to overheat like an overclocked computer. He nearly felt like crying. He had come this far, traveled all those hours, and he didn't even have an address. As his brain tumbled into a well of panic his mouth began speaking without his consent. An address passed through his lips easily and the driver nodded. They pulled out of the crush of cars picking up passengers and started down the highway. Copia looked out the window to watch the beautiful Swedish countryside go by as he quietly had an existential crisis. Where had that address come from? Even now he couldn't remember what he had said at all. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that something had acted through him. The thought gave him chills. What had he gotten himself into?

The taxi made it's way up a winding road surrounded by old trees. The abbey itself was nestled right up against the forest. It was made of fine stone and looked completely medieval. Copia was awestruck by how beautiful it was. There were soaring arches and imposing walls. Windows festooned with colorful stained glass sat proudly in nooks and alcoves. Gargoyles carved wearing strange masks hunched on eves and over doorways. Copia wordlessly handed the driver a handful of money and then got out to stare at the church in shock. His brain and his body went to war with each other. There was something that felt so right here, so natural and peaceful. It was that distinct but unnameable feeling of home. It felt like the relief you feel when you begin to see familiar roads and buildings on the final leg of a journey home. That unmistakable feeling that you were back where you belonged.

His brain, on the other hand, was screaming at him. He took a step back like a skittish horse when he realized the scenes in the stained glass were not exactly how the Bible described them. To the left of the entryway was a small garden full of flowers and a beautiful statue of a man in a place of honor in the center. Copia walked over to it, taken in by the artistry and skill that had made a hunk of marble into such a stunning figure. He squinted at the plaque on the base of the statue and felt dizzy as he read the name. Of course they would have a statue of Lucifer in the midst of their flower beds.

"Hello? Can I help you?" a soft, lilting voice said from behind him. Copia turned swiftly, alarmed, and took in a tall figure wearing sharp black priest vestments. Instead of a cross across his chest, the man had that stylized G on a chain. He had gently curling dark red hair that brushed the top of his shoulders and kind looking muddy green eyes. Copia couldn't place the accent but he guessed Irish or maybe Scottish.

"I'm..." Copia paused. He wasn't sure what he was anymore. "I'm here to see Papa Emeritus III, please."

The Satanic priest looked him over and Copia felt horribly self conscious. He didn't want to imagine how bad he looked.

"May I have a name to tell him?" the priest asked.

"Father Copia. From Italy."

"You're Father Copia!" his eyes went wide. "We've been expecting you. Please, wait here, just a moment. I'll get Papa." The priest ran off and Copia sighed. He puts his suitcase down and tried to focus. He felt his limbs shaking a little and his headache threatened to split his skull in two. Copia's heart lurched painfully as he saw that familiar skullpaint walk out of the abbey. Papa made his way over to him, smiling with excitement he just couldn't hide. Copia smiled too.

"Papa." he said, taking one step towards him before crumpling to the ground in a dead faint like a marionette with it's strings severed.

***

Copia woke up slowly, feeling utterly wrung out. He had no idea where he was but he was too tired for the idea to really worry him. The bed he had been tucked into was opulence personified. The sheets were silk and the bed frame itself was large and gilded, posts on the head and foot boards twisting elegantly towards the ceiling. Purple damask curtains had been tied back and Copia caught just a glimpse of the room beyond. More gilded furniture, sumptuous rugs, stunning mirrors. It was almost the exact opposite of his rooms back in his church. The thought felt odd in his brain, as if remembering a past life and not what had been his reality as of one week ago.

He sat up and swiftly had to grab for the sheets, a shocked noise escaping him. His clothing was missing and he was completely naked. He looked around frantically for his robes but didn't see them. Someone had undressed him before leaving him here. He quickly took stock of his body again, looking at the now familiar scratches and bruises. He traced the new symbol on his inner thigh, still confused by it's existence on his body. He had new wounds too, bruises slowly blossoming to life on his knees and his palms were red and raw from the ground outside. There was a large white bandage on his inner arm, lumpy from a cotton ball placed underneath it. He wondered what that could be.

The door to the room banged open without warning and Copia shouted in surprised, grabbing the sheets and drawing them up to his chin. A tall figure walked into the room, carrying a tray. The figure had broad shoulders that tapered down to a trim waist and wore a heavy looking chrome mask complete with devilish horns and sculpted hair. His robes were covered in odd symbols. Father Copia retreated further back into the bed in alarm, staring at the strange creature in shock. Papa III walked in after the creature and relief was starkly evident on Copia's face.

"Papa." he said. Papa grinned at him. The masked figure put the tray down on the nearby nightstand and exited the room, shutting the door behind him with a sharp click.

"Such a dramatic entrance, my beautiful one." Papa winked at him. "I wanted you to fall at my feet but not quite so literally." 

"I'm sorry," Copia said. "I feel so embarrassed. I didn't mean to faint." 

Papa sat on the edge of the bed near Copia, making the fallen priest remember the last time that handsome man had been perched on his bedside. Blood rushed to Copia's face and down between his legs. Papa lifted the cover on the tray and handed Copia a delicate cup and saucer. 

"Drink this. It will help you feel better." 

Copia sipped at the hot, medicinal smelling tea and watched Papa for a moment. His movements were obscenely elegant, even just the way he moved his hand to gesture as he spoke was pure poetry. He couldn't take his eyes off him even if he had wanted to. 

"After your grand entrance into the abbey, Father Andrew helped me carry you inside. One of our nurses looked you over and had you on an IV for a bit. You were so dehydrated, my lovely one. What a state you arrived in."

"Did you... um, undress me?" Copia asked, the sheets still tugged up to his clavicle. Papa gave him a hungry, wolfish smile. 

"Your former clothes were so awful I just had to get you out of them. I had them burned. I hope you don't mind."

"Burned?" Copia looked at him, surprised. Papa shrugged. 

"You won't be needing them anymore. I sent for some of our priest robes. You can change into them once you finish your tea."

"Since you undressed me, did you see... there's something on my thigh." he said slowly, studying Papa's face. He gave nothing away, or perhaps his skullpaint hid his true expression. 

"I'm sure your old group would call it the mark of the beast or something hideously over dramatic like that. It's just a symbol worn by the faithful, the first sign they are part of the Clergy."

"Am I?" Copia asked, head spinning. "Am I a part of the Clergy?"

"You are now. You made the journey." Papa smiled at him. "Welcome home, beloved." 

***

 Copia finished his tea and felt strong enough to attempt getting out of bed and getting dressed. Papa handed him a pile of black robes and Copia scrambled behind a large, Japanese screen in the corner to change. 

"You know that's just decorative, right?" Papa said, laughter evident in his voice. "I've seen you naked before, father. I've seen every single inch of you." 

Copia didn't need a mirror to know he was blushing fiercely. He could feel the very tips of his ears burning. 

"I still don't understand." he said as he started to pull on the new clothes. "I thought you came to me in a dream but... I don't know. Was that real? Back in Germany? Did you really come into my room and..." Copia couldn't even put words to what they had done. It had been glorious and profane and the most wonderful experience of his life. 

"Fuck the daylights out of you?" Papa suggested. He grinned when he heard Copia try to cover up a squeak with a cough. 

"I mean it. How did you...?" 

Papa caught his reflection in one of the mirrors and spent a moment adjusting his hair and his clothes. It gave him a chance to think. He couldn't tell his sweet priest everything yet. There were protocols in place. He knew Copia would be devout to both him and the Clergy but some knowledge was forbidden without the proper rituals.

"Allow me my secrets, darling." he said, giving his reflection a rakish grin. "But yes, that was really me. It was no dream."

Copia was finished dressing and stood behind the screen for a moment, the gravity of that statement sinking in. He had lost his virginity to Papa, begged for it like a whore. He truly was no longer the man he had once been. He fiddled with the bejeweled stylized G attached to his cassock in place of a cross, biting his lip as he thought. He wished there was a mirror behind the screen with him. The robes felt much tighter than he was used to, emphasizing a figure he barely knew he had. Taking a deep breath, Father Copia stepped back into the room. Papa turned to look at him, his expression turning to pure lust. 

"Dear sweet Lucifer, you are stunning in that." he said. 

"It's a little tight." Copia admitted. 

"Good." Papa said, walking around him, taking him in from every angle. 

"If it was really you that night, why did you leave me there?" Copia asked, feeling foolish for being a touch hurt at his abandonment. Papa paused in front of him and met his gaze with a piercing, mismatched one of his own. 

"The Clergy believes in free will. It's an important staple of our faith. You might even call it a commandment." 

"Free will? That's why you couldn't just... spirit me away with you that night?" Copia asked, taken aback. Papa shrugged.

"It is one of the tenets of our order. Everyone who comes here must come of their own free will. You were not dragged here against your will, or bribed, or tricked. You made the choice yourself."

Father Copia stared at him, still weak from his multiple days of travel and his embarrassing fainting spell outside in the courtyard. Papa gave him a look Copia didn't understand, part pity and part smug.

"There is still so much about the Clergy you don't understand."

"Then tell me!" Copia said, exasperated.

"I can't. Not yet. You are not yet ordained here. There are rules. There are rituals."

"But what about free will? I'm asking you to tell me of my own free will. I want to know. I want to learn."

Papa took Copia's chin in his white gloved hand, tilting his freckled face up to look at him. "You will, one day. If you are deemed ready." Papa kissed his fallen priest sweetly, savoring him. He was finally home and in his arms. Copia deepened the kiss, forcing Papa back against the bedroom wall. Papa groaned, excited by this new side of the father.

"You're going to get your lovely new robes all dirty," Papa said, unable to keep the seductive notes out of his voice. The sharp black robes of the Clergy suited his fallen priest so well. Papa had daydreamed about seeing Copia in them, of admiring the snug fit of the cassock, the supple leather of the gloves. He wondered if he could convince Copia to break the gloves in by wrapping them around his cock. With his fallen priest here now the possibilities were endless.

"I don't care," Copia said, trying to sound defiant. "Defile me. Mark me again. Make me yours."

Papa grinned and kissed him again, hands sliding down Copia's back to rest on his hips. "If you insist." he said.

Given the choice, Papa would have preferred something slow and tempting to celebrate his wayward priest's arrival. He wanted nothing more than to tear off those sacrilegiously seductive robes and spend hours in bed with him, mapping Copia's body like it was a new continent to conquer. Sadly, he knew Copia wasn't up to that yet. His journey had clearly been a long and unpleasant one and he still wasn't at full strength. Bed would come later. For now, he just needed something to bend him over so he could bury himself in his fallen priest and make him scream. Papa kissed Copia, moving them across the room. He barely had to look up to find the right place. He knew this room like the back of his hand. It was his personal bedroom, after all. 

Copia pulled away from the kiss when he felt his back connect with a piece of furniture. A desk or maybe a dresser, he thought absently. Papa rubbed his cock through his new robes and Copia bit back a moan. He held on tight to Papa's arms, head bowed against Papa's chest. How could something so simple feel so good? 

"Do you want me?" Papa asked him, tilting his head up. Looking into Papa's eyes was almost like hypnosis. The unnerving, unearthly white eye felt like it was boring into his soul. 

"Yes." Copia said with a shiver. Papa kissed him. "Tell me. Say you want me."

"I want you." he moaned, earning himself another kiss. Papa moved lower, kissing on his throat, biting down on a lurid bruise he had made the previous night. Copia cried out. 

"Tell me what you want." Papa said, moving to his earlobe. "Say you want me to fuck you." 

Copia had no idea how he was still standing. His knees had gone completely weak and he held onto Papa for dear life. 

"Papa." Copia panted, not sure he could say such a thing. "Please." 

"Please what?" Papa asked with mock innocence, rubbing his cock more. Copia groaned.

"Please. Please fuck me." he gasped, shocked at himself. Papa rewarded him with a kiss that nearly melted his spine. 

"Anything for you, lovely one." was his reply. Papa took Copia by the hips and turned him, shoving his chest against the dresser. Copia was suddenly face to face with his own startled reflection. A huge mirror in a gilt frame was mounted directly over the dresser and Copia could see what Papa's ministrations had done to him. His face was scarlet with desire and shame, his hair an unholy mess, his lips swollen and his throat bruised. 

Papa rummaged through the dresser drawers before triumphantly finding a small tube. He flipped the cassock over Copia's back and shoved his pants down. Copia yelped and looked over his shoulder at Papa. He grinned and kissed him. 

"Told you I'd have you bent over with your robes thrown over your head." he said, caressing Copia's backside before starting to get him ready. Copia moaned at the strange, foreign feeling that was the intrusion of Papa's fingers. 

"Oh god!" Copia moaned, breath hitching when Papa found the place inside him that made his toes curl with pure unadulterated want. His head fell into his hands, resting gently on the surface of the dresser. He was so easily lost to the pleasure Papa gave him. He was taken out of his reverie by a sharp slap on his behind, head jolting up in surprise.

"Oh, now that made you throb." Papa said, pleased. Copia heard Papa unzip himself and felt desire crash over him like a tidal wave. At that moment he wanted nothing more than Papa's cock. Words began to pour out of him, begging his infernal lover to hurry, to take him, to spend inside him. Copia's pleas were heady and Papa couldn't wait any longer. He took Copia by the hips, angling him properly, before thrusting into him. 

Father Copia cried out, head arching back. Papa groaned and started to fuck him roughly, holding his hips tight enough to bruise. He glanced down to watch himself enter his lover, turned on by the sight of it. He had wanted this for so long, ever since that moment in the confessional, and now Copia was here in the abbey. He was where he belonged. Copia was his. 

Copia clung to the dresser like a shipwrecked sailor clings to broken wreckage. It banged against the wall in time with Papa's thrusts, Copia's moans and cries adding to the cacophony created by their lust. He dropped his head down onto his hands again, gasping as Papa somehow got even deeper. He was babbling, he knew he was babbling, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Nothing in the entire world mattered except for Papa Emeritus III. 

Papa stroked his wild hair before grabbing it and forcing Copia's head up. He moaned, back arching. 

"Watch. I want you to see what I'm doing to you." Papa said. Copia looked at him in the mirror and Papa grinned. He released Copia's hair and began to stroke him in time with his thrusts. He cried out, eyes wide, watching himself. His eyes looked glassy with desire and his mouth hung open. He began to feel a now familiar sensation start to build in him. He moved back on Papa, desperate for release. He felt his nerves begin to burn and his blood begin to thrum in his ears, a primal beat caught deep in his body. 

"Papa!" he yelled, fingers splayed on the dresser top, eyes locked on those of his reflection. "Papa, I'm so close! Please! Oh, Satan, please, I'm going to cum!" 

Papa heeded his Satan's prayer. He thrust harder, finding the place inside that drove his lover wild. Copia came with a scream, shuddering against him and spending all over his fingers. Papa couldn't last long after that. He groaned and came inside his fallen priest, earning a low moan in response. 

Copia tried to catch his breath, head back on the dresser surface. His legs felt like jelly and he knew he'd collapse to the floor if Papa let him go. Papa leaned forward and kissed on his neck and cheek, murmuring sweet things as they both calmed down. 

"So good. So perfect. My beautiful Copia." 

***

Papa III cleaned Copia up before fixing his robes and depositing Copia on a nearby chaise lounge upholstered in purple velvet. The priest rested there, feeling both elated and exhausted. 

"You are a demon." He said with a laugh. Papa laughed too, though it was without mirth. 

"I'm a great many things, love." he said, sitting with him. Copia reached out and brushed some of Papa's raven hair out of his eyes. He smiled at the unholy man, the man he had traveled hundreds of miles for, the one who had stolen his heart. 

"I'm so glad I'm here." he said. Papa took his hand and kissed it. 

"I'm glad too." 

They sat in silence for a moment, Copia's hand clutched in Papa's. He shifted on the chaise, turning to rest his head against Papa's shoulder. Copia couldn't believe this was real. Part of him still worried that it was a dream and any minute he'd wake up back in his narrow bed in the old rectory of his church, another day of boring masses and empty confessional booths waiting for him. The thought made his blood turn to ice. He couldn't bear to leave this place now, to be without Papa. He wanted desperately for this to become his home. 

"You said there were ways to make me a part of this place, yes? A part of the Clergy?" he asked. 

"There are." Papa replied. "The rituals are sacred, but they are dangerous and bloody."

Copia mulled this over, weighing Papa's words in his mind. He had come so far. He wasn't about to stop now. 

"I want to do them. I want to become a real, ordained member of the Clergy. I want to know... well, everything." he said. Papa had gone still and silent against him. 

"Are you sure?" he asked. Copia nodded, smiling. 

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life. You said my faith is strong and it is. It brought me here. This is where I belong." 

Papa turned Copia and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly. Copia kissed him back with equal fervor. 

"All right." Papa said, rather amazed at his fallen priest. What hidden depths he had. "I'll make all the arrangements. You'll have your very own night of ritual." 

"I can't wait." Copia said. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And, as always, very special thanks to:
> 
> Ann, the goodest noodle, my co-conspirator. Shout out to the lovelies in the TB server, including Room, Vox, and Paxx. Additional shout out to everyone in the Ghost BC Events, C3, and Kazoo discords. You're all out of your minds in the very best of ways.
> 
> Lemore, from Instagram, who is a beautiful person who draws beautiful things. It's been an absolute pleasure getting to know you and I am so proud of this fandom for bringing people together. You are wonderful and your artwork and talent just blow me away. Thank you for bringing Copia and Papa's adventures to such brilliant, amazing life. I'm not worthy. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading. See you next time.


End file.
